Collab One Shots: Igrayne
by Igrayne01
Summary: After the ending of Collaborative: Everything Burns, Igrayne of Kuat returns to the Jedi Temple in Coruscant to face her fate.


The cramped transport back to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant didn't leave Igrayne much room to stretch her legs. Aliens of every size, shape, and center crowded her into her seat, giving her the rare opportunity to practice blending in while dressed in Jedi robes. Though no one seemed particularly interested in her business on Coruscant, she made a habit of trying not to draw too much attention to herself when out in public, especially when she was on official Jedi business.

It was an hour's journey to the temple, so Igrayne decided it best to close her eyes and try for some sleep, but it wasn't that easy. Despite feeling fatigue weighting her lids, the cacophony of noise and the smell of cigarra smoke kept her wide awake. She could have used some sleep—running on empty for two days straight wasn't bound to do anything for the puffy circles under her dark eyes—but sometimes her dreams were no better than the reality she awoke to.

As she watched an explosion of spectacles whizz by outside of the transport's thick observation windows, her thoughts were haunted by the recent battle with Eklipse. Yesterday marked the third month since that fateful day, although her memory had her strangely convinced it had been no more than a few weeks. She couldn't really be sure. Her body's innate timekeeping system had been thrown off-kilter ever since she had watched her lover, Bao-Dur, succumb to a lethal wound. In that moment, Igrayne reflected, everything had changed.

First, her commitment to the Jedi Order had faltered. She'd come clean with the truth—the entire truth—to her Jedi master, Vrook, who promptly chastised her for her consistently poor decisions. Then Vrook had made known many of her indiscretions to the rest of the Jedi Council members, which was enough of an embarrassment as to drive her further from the arms of the organization she once considered her safe haven.

Second, she had isolated herself from her friends, trying to banish all that reminded her of Bao-Dur from her life. Severing all contact with the rest of the heroes was the final blow. Evy, Carina, and Rani had all been very understanding when she announced her decision to go into self-imposed exile, but she couldn't help but feel there might be some bad blood between them because of the way they had left things.

Now at last she was answering for her mistakes. The Jedi Council had called her in to judge her and determine if she was still fit to bear the title of Jedi knight now that she had sullied it with her actions. There was not much more she could do to shame herself. She supposed she deserved to be demoted, at the very least, and maybe even banished. Logically, it made the most sense.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a holonews broadcast. Her eyes drifted forward to the screen at the front of the transport, though a prominent pair of vestigial horns belonging to a very intimidating Devaronian obstructed her view. As she shifted from side to side, trying to position herself to better view the news broadcast, the transport jostled the traveler in front of her, subverting each and every attempt.

"Oh, by the Force, move it," she cursed under her breath, pushing herself up from her seat despite protests from the driver to sit down. Her eyes remained glued to the screen, where a familiar face gazed calmly back at her.

Kevan had not changed much, other than shedding his everyday clothes for a much spiffier ensemble that showcased the proper amount of decorum required when appearing on a live news broadcast. A well-groomed holonews reporter was holding a mic to his face and looking off-camera to her crew for direction, apparently unaware they were already live. When she got the signal, she jumped right into her line of questioning.

"Jayna Stainn here with Kevan Sir'takk, an Iridonian candidate who is currently campaigning for a political position in the Galactic Senate. If elected, Mr. Sir'takk will be the primary liaison between Iridonia and the rest of the core worlds. This highly coveted seat was established in response to protests from Iridonian officials that their race was not given equal representation in the Galactic Senate." She spun about toward the Zabrak, her lacquered red nails patting down her glossy hair into place.

"Well, Mr. Sir'takk, the public wants to know more about you. If you've been paying attention to the holonews lately, you'll know many reporters are describing you as enigmatic. Can you tell us a little about yourself?"

"Certainly," Kevan said with a noble tip of the head. "I served in the wars as part of a fighting division from Iridonia. I like to say I was a 'Hero of the Republic' by extension." He gave a little chuckle. "And then I took work as a technician at Coruscant's Jedi Temple. It was good work, honorable work. But over time, I began to feel as though I had completed all I needed to complete there. That was when I left."

"And what made you decide to run for office?"

"I suppose I saw a lot of things that needed changing, and no one was doing it."

"Mr. Sir'takk, what can you tell us of the Iridonians' agenda? If you get into office, are there reforms you'd like to see made?"

The Zabrak carefully schooled his expression to one of disinterest as he gave his answer. They were always good at disguising their true feelings, Igrayne decided. Perhaps it was to their detriment.

"I speak for a great many people when I say that, on Iridonia, we enjoy close, loving relationships with our mates and our next of kin. In other parts of the galaxy, however, we have enough trouble keeping racial tensions at bay," the Zabrak said. His brow knotted as though the pain from the prejudice he had felt all his life was a glove slowly tightening around his throat. "If I am elected, I hope to bring awareness to the rest of the galactic community. We have very few beliefs that conflict with standing governments, and we are always open to compromise. Hopefully, the rest of humanity will see this and stop treating us like second-class citizens."

A few cheers and scant applause from the transport's occupants interrupted Igrayne's thoughts.

"Well spoken, Mr. Sir'takk," the newswoman said—although not entirely convincingly. "And does part of that plan include assisting in the cleanup of certain sectors of Iridonia that were devastated when the Sith first bombarded the planet?"

Kevan nodded, looking pained by the memory.

"Yes, I do hope to aid in recovery and cleanup if at all possible by directing more of the budget toward our recovery efforts. It is important the families displaced by that tragedy receive the restitution they are due."

"We have enough time for one last question." Her eyes drifted down to a cue card which was obviously being held in front of her for guidance. "It's true that Zabraks have an extensive track record in the galaxy, and the word peace is rarely in it. Do you have any comment on those implications?"

A small smile tugged at Kevan's lips as though he had been expecting this question from the reporter.

"I am well aware of the reputation we have earned, although I fear our race has been badly misrepresented in many ways. It is true we are strong-willed beings, but we are not unreasonable. The various representations of us—on the holonews, mostly—paint us as some ritualistic society of warriors who crave bloodshed. Nothing could be further from the truth. Like every other alien race, we have assimilated into the culture, relinquished our individuality, and what have we received in return? Undeserved censure. There is nothing that disgusts me more."

"What do you have to say of Siroi Ma'taak?" the newswoman asked, referencing the psychotic Zabrak who had amassed a notable amount of followers and attempted to topple several Republic outposts in the Outer Rim. The short-lived coup was quickly quelled, and the Zabrak thereafter executed.

"Why let one bad apple spoil the bunch?" Kevan asked theoretically. "Really, that's all I have to say of him."

"There you have it, folks, straight from the horse's mouth," the newswoman said, her eyes blankly staring into the camera. "If you would like to get in touch with Mr. Sir'takk's office for further comment, please contact the comlink frequency below."

Igrayne made a mental note of the number that flashed on the screen, resolving to return to it once her trial had passed.

"More on Mr. Sir'takk's fellow Iridonian running mate, Juniel D'abo, after this."

The camera quickly flashed a picture of a pretty-looking Zabrak with maroon-colored markings. Not long enough for Igrayne to form much of an opinion. After that, commercials advertising different products began flashing on the screen, giving Igrayne enough of an incentive to sit down.

She finally succumbed to sleep, waking a short while later to find the transport was at her stop. Quickly jumping up and begging the driver to help carry her bags, Igrayne walked down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk, all five of her senses immediately accosted by the sights and sounds of the Coruscant cityscape. The driver placed her luggage down by her feet and she tipped him a few cred chits in return. Then, turning to gather her luggage, she made the steep ascent up Processional Way toward one of the temple's four main entrances.

Desiring to burn off excess energy after sitting for so long in one spot, Igrayne quickly jogged up the long flight of steps toward the temple's entrance. She paused briefly and turned around, bags in hand. From her vantage point, she could see the sweeping panorama of Coruscant in full sensory detail. Sleek silver aircrafts laced the horizon line, which was dotted with a plethora of official-looking highrise buildings. She absorbed it all, momentarily comforted by the sights and sounds. It was already taking her mind off Bao-Dur, which was not an easy thing to do.

She turned and followed her previous course toward the main entrance. Processional Way terminated in a great stair that led up past the statues of the Four Masters and under the great stone pylons displaying bass-reliefs of the founding Jedi. Beyond the pylons lay a courtyard with a set of red and white steps that led to four passages that emptied into the main entrance hall. Igrayne followed the long meditative corridor into the center of the hall, which was lined by life-sized statues of Jedi masters from days of yore. Various flights of stairs were scattered throughout the hall, leading onto higher platforms.

There in the center of the hall was a craggy old face Igrayne recognized well: Master Vrook Lamarr. The Jedi had been expecting her, judging by the look of his stooped posture and impatient demeanor and, true to form, he did not disappoint: the eternal scowl he always wore when he seemed displeased with something—which was almost always—was once again plastered on his face.

"Jedi Knight Igrayne," he said by way of greeting, though the tone indicated to Igrayne he didn't think he would be addressing her by that title for much longer. "You're late."

"Forgive me, Master," she said penitently, struggling slightly with her bags. Vrook nodded to her to release the bags and ordered some young padawan to come help her. They followed the padawan to her temporary quarters, speaking as they walked in tandem.

"When has the hearing been scheduled for, Master?"

"In two standard hours, so you will not have much time to get settled in your new lodgings and make yourself presentable."

He said this with the slightest hint of disdain at her robes, which were understandably rumpled from the journey. Igrayne chose to ignore his comment and ran a hand through her unruly brown locks. Her hair only responded by looking even more mussed.

"There are a few things you need to know before you go before the Council," Vrook said. "Remember, you must address them with respect. They may look more favorably upon you if you do. And do not be so eager to defend yourself that you make yourself look like a bumbling idiot. Try to be tactful, although I know it may be hard for you."

"Gee, thanks, Master," she replied, the sarcasm in her tone going completely unnoticed by her Jedi master. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Lastly," Vrook said, training his stern blue eyes upon her, "And this is most important, Igrayne: do not speak of the child."

Igrayne's brow furrowed in non-understanding.

"Master, isn't that one of the charges being leveled at me? I mean, doesn't the Jedi Council view me as being in the wrong here?"

"Certainly, I do, but the Jedi Council does not know about what happened with your condition. And you already have enough charges to answer for without adding another to the list." Here, the Jedi stuttered slightly as though flustered by the subject. "As Jedi, we are not immune to certain human desires, nor are we beyond reproach for giving in to these desires. But I feel as though there are some matters that require a certain amount of discretion. This is one of them, Igrayne."

She nodded shakily, her lips parting slightly as she said, "Thank you, Master. Your support right now means the world to me."

"I never said I supported your decisions, Igrayne," Vrook said, being very quick to correct her, "But I won't judge you for them, either."

Igrayne felt an emotion she had never felt toward Vrook before—respect—slowly blossoming in her breast. The wizened old Jedi master always had high expectations for his Jedi students and exhibited a healthy dislike for anything that even remotely opposed the Jedi Code. The fact he was so sensitive to her situation proved to her he wasn't just a "rotting corpse," like some of the other Jedi padawans liked to joke, but in fact a man with a very big heart for other people's feelings. The fact that he could foresee the embarrassment the divulging of that one secret to the Jedi community would bring upon his padawan and avoid it told her that, despite his nagging ways, he truly cared about her.

They arrived at Igrayne's temporary quarters, where the padawan deposited her luggage and then left. The Jedi knight bid her master farewell with the promise to be ready in two hours' time and then palmed the lock to her door. Turning around, she took a look at the apartment's furnishings. They were modest lodgings, with only a bed, dresser, and 'fresher nearby. She didn't need much, just the essentials.

Igrayne rummaged through her luggage for Bao-Dur's lightsaber, which she had kept at her side day and night in the months following his death. As her hands secured it, lovingly caressing it as though it were a trophy worthy of admiration, tears filled her eyes. She promised she wouldn't cry again, but she was never good at keeping promises. Her hands clenched the lightsaber, her thumb briefly flicking over the activator switch to let the blade spring to life. It buzzed harmoniously, and the color—now a dull blue—seemed as though some vibrancy had drained from it. She powered down the lightsaber and laid it carefully over her robes. Carrying it with her would give her strength enough to attend the hearing today. It was all she had left of him, her only reminder.

A few hours later, after a nap and a quick shower, a slight rapping sounded at her door. Igrayne emerged in full Jedi regalia, dressed in her best robes so as to make a favorable impression on her fellow council members. A young padawan escorted her down the corridors to a very large but otherwise unremarkable-looking door.

"They're waiting for you, ma'am," the boy said, scurrying away once Igrayne gave the order. "Ma'am"…why does that word make me feel so old? she thought. She set about straightening her rumpled Jedi robes, took a deep breath to steady herself, and then entered as the door swooshed open to receive her.

Inside, her fellow council members were already awaiting her. She shuffled into the large, domed-topped room, her eyes immediately drawn to the centerpiece: a floating sphere of light. Immediately entranced, Igrayne walked forward, her feet involuntarily drawn into the room. She gave a respectful bow to the gathered Jedi and then walked to the center of the twelve seats. She saw her master, Vrook, sitting between Vandar Tokare and Zhar Lestin. To either side of them were Masters Dorak, Atris, Zez-Kai-El, Bala Nisi, Qual, Lonna Vash, Arren Kae, and Tyro Sorath. The seat once held by Master Kavar was now occupied by Jedi Master Raana Tey, a beautiful female Togruta with markings that rivaled that of the Zabraks.

"Jedi Knight Igrayne," Master Zhar addressed her, making it clear he was the one overseeing these proceedings. Since Vrook was her Jedi master, they were probably concerned he would show partiality toward her in his judgment, so they had assigned someone else the task in order to avoid this eventuality. "You stand before us today in recognition of your transgressions, do you not?"

"I do, Master."

"And, as such, you are prepared to accept whatever sentence is delivered to you?"

"I do, Master."

"Good. Master Tey, please proceed with your line of questioning," the Twi'lek said, ceding the floor to the Togruta female. She stood with the practiced grace of one of her species, though there was a slight touch of madness about her.

"Jedi Knight Igrayne, approximately when did the relationship between you and Jedi Bao-Dur begin?"

Thinking back to the very beginning of it all was difficult; being asked to do it on the spot was exceedingly so. Igrayne's insides warmed at the remembrance of the first kiss they had shared in the Jedi Enclave on Dantooine. Shortly after that, they had become lovers.

"Right before I was apprenticed to Master Vrook," she said, her answer eliciting a murmur of surprise from all who were listening. Apparently the knowledge that she had been carrying on like this for quite some time was shocking.

"And did this relationship continue beyond your appointment?"

"And well into my knighthood, yes."

"That is unacceptable," the Togruta said, pacing slightly to dispel the energy generated by her anger. "You acted in full affront of the Jedi Code, contrary to everything you had vowed to uphold. And you show no remorse."

"I don't," Igrayne replied, suddenly angered by the image that popped up in her head of her groveling before the council and asking forgiveness. She would not submit herself to them so and throw away what little dignity she had left.

"Do you hear this, Master Vrook?" the Togruta said. "It sounds like your pupil could use some discipline."

Master Vrook's eyes flashed with rage briefly, but he calmed down enough to say to the Togruta, "I have used my discretion in administering disciplinary measures to my student. I find it counterproductive to punish when the better alternative may be to lead by example."

"And it's quite an example you're setting, Master, by turning a blind eye to your student's indiscretions, by allowing her to make a mockery of the ancient code which has bound the Jedi for so long," she said. "If I were you, I would have expelled her long ago."

"Then it is fortunate you are not."

Igrayne exhaled audibly. She was beginning to sweat now that she was under such heavy scrutiny. Thankfully, she had not said anything about her relationship with Dustil—not that there was much of anything going on there at all anymore. When last they had parted, it was with the understanding that they were nothing more than "just friends," although Igrayne really resented that term and wanted to think of him as more than that. But Bao-Dur's death had changed things; Igrayne had grown colder, more distant, and she soon realized that these feelings were not conducive to carrying on a relationship with the younger Onasi. And besides, Bao-Dur deserved more respect. No more than three months had passed since his death; it would have not said much for her character if she had run straight into the arms of another man for comfort. So it was with regret—and guilt—she informed him of her decision to eventually return to the Jedi Council for their hearing. Their last conversation, which had rapidly devolved into an argument, had been so heated that Igrayne didn't care to dwell on the subject much longer.

"Through her actions, she has shown obvious contempt for the Jedi Order. I think it is safe to say she deserves expulsion."

A slight ruckus rose among the masses, as the Jedi quietly quarreled amongst themselves. Vrook's booming voice filled the room, assaulting everyone's eardrums with a deafening "Silence!" Almost everyone obeyed the order immediately. "Master Tey was only expressing her opinion. The council must debate its decision before we deliver a verdict."

One by one, the Jedi began filing out the room. Igrayne was last to leave, and she shot a look at her Jedi master before being ushered out into the hallway. Outside, the Jedi were congregated in small circles, bubbling with news of Igrayne's hearing. When she entered the corridor, the conversations fell to hushed whispers. She had never felt more awkward in her life. For support, she clutched Bao-Dur's lightsaber, which was belted at her side. Feeling the cool metal sting her hand was comforting.

Igrayne scanned the sea of faces to see if there was anyone she recognized. The few padawans who had accompanied their masters to the hearing were gathered in a circle over by a lengthy column, while the other knights kept mostly to her right. They whispered in hushed tones, focusing their attention on Igrayne, no doubt, and the prospective outcome of her very public trial. The disgraced Jedi thought about trying to approach them before resuming her reserved stance, both pale hands clasped delicately in front of her in an aristocratic manner as she lapsed into a quiet tempered only by occasional outbursts of laughter from the students standing nearby. Igrayne could feel the intensity of a hundred different stares focused on her petite form.

Before long, the door slipped open at lightning speed and out walked Master Vrook to mercifully announce that Igrayne—and the others—could return to hear the verdict. As soon as Igrayne entered the room, she was filled with trepidation. She had been mildly worried before, but now the realization that whatever they said could make or break her future began to sink in.

"Jedi Knight Igrayne," the Togruta said as everyone took their seats, "The Jedi Council has decided not to expel you."

Igrayne suppressed the little peal of girlish laughter that threatened to escape her lips. Instead, she settled for a pleased-looking grin.

"However, you are to be demoted and stripped of your title of Jedi Knight."

"What?!" she said unconsciously and out loud. She had hardly realized the word escaped her lips until she heard the murmur of surprise ripple through the crowd of onlookers.

"The council felt you were not deserving of the title, as you proved with your various indiscretions. The council also deemed it wise to assign you a new Jedi master, one who will take stock in your development. Master Vrook has already given his approval of this."

"A new Jedi master? But who?" Igrayne echoed. Her attention was directed across the room, where Tyro Sorath was standing with both arms crossed, his large hands tucked into his sleeves almost as if he was in a meditative stance.

"Master Sorath has elected to take you under his charge, so you will answer to him in all matters now."

Igrayne gazed sidelong at Master Sorath, who made a curt but respectful bow to her. The unconventionally handsome Zeltron Jedi master was a behemoth of a man, standing almost a full two heads taller than her, and with skin the color of deepest crimson. He sported an impossibly full head of short-cut dark red hair, and his mid-blue eyes were ringed with unusual flecks of gold. He was distinguished-looking, and she was certain he would be a kind but firm master to her. But part of her couldn't help but feel she had been cheated of Master Vrook at a time when she was finally starting to come around to him.

"And the council has asked that you return the lightsaber."

The look on Igrayne's face spoke plainly of her confusion.

"My lightsaber? The one I built with my own hands? It's mine!"

"No, not your lightsaber, Igrayne," Vrook said tentatively, his eyes darting across the room to avoid looking at her head on. "Jedi Bao-Dur's lightsaber. I know you have it. I saw it clipped to your belt even before you entered the room."

Igrayne's hand rested on the hilt, curling around it protectively, as if to challenge him to the right to bear it.

"No."

The Togruta seemed encouraged by Igrayne's open defiance, and she spat, "See? If she does not listen to our orders, who does she listen to? It is a mistake to keep her on."

"That is not your decision," Vrook snarled. His head snapped around viciously. "Igrayne, give me the lightsaber."

"I can't. It is mine."

"It is property of the Jedi Council; it no longer belongs to you."

Vrook's outstretched hand appeared before Igrayne's eyes. Slowly, she unclipped the lightsaber from her belt, both hands securely fastened around it as she walked up to Vrook shakily. Her heart pounding in her ears, threatening to unbalance her with each shuddering thrum, she clenched the lightsaber one last time before relinquishing it to Vrook.

"Thank you."

His hand curled around the hilt, and it vanished once more from view. Suddenly, for the first time in months, Igrayne felt very cold, as if all the warmth had left her. Despair coiled around her mind like a serpent. She had released the last part of him from her life forever, and there was no taking any of it back now.

_Please come back to me, love._

-----------------------------

Two months later, Igrayne was engaged in a fierce round of combat practice with a young padawan named Rika Skye when the news first came to her. Master Sorath often allowed her to spar with many of the padawans, especially Rika, since they were evenly-matched opponents. And since Igrayne was by no means "fit" and "toned" in the strictest sense of the words, Sorath often pushed her to the very limits of her strength. Thus far, the muscles on her arms were shaping up nicely, taking a more pleasing form due to the continued exercise.

Igrayne was in her element as she lunged headlong at the woman, grasping her around the mid-section for a better grip before flipping her over almost effortlessly. The spry younger woman, whom she had just knocked to the ground with a staggering blow, was up on her feet again in almost no time, an elfin smile on her face.

"You've heard the rumors, then, have you?"

"Rumors? What rumors? What are you talking about?"

Igrayne was taken off guard long enough to allow Rika the opportunity to knock her on her back. As she stared straight upward into the sloped ceiling, Rika's head popped into view, loose tendrils of hair that had come unbound in practice snaking down the side of her face.

"Your friend Carina is returning to the Jedi Temple. Some of the masters have been speaking of it."

Rendered speechless by this pronouncement, Igrayne found she could do nothing but lay there and gape at the other woman. Rika extended a hand, offering to pull her to her feet. Igrayne accepted the hand gladly, using it to tug herself up from the ground.

"I'm not sure I understand. Carina was on sabbatical—indefinite leave—and now she's just decided to come back, out of the blue?"

The younger woman rolled her shoulders in a lazy shrug.

"I suppose so. You'll have to ask her yourself when she gets here."

"And when will that be?"

"In about an hour?"

"An hour?" Igrayne gawked, rushing for the door. She palmed the keypad and gave her hair a few quick strokes with her fingertips.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"I'm getting ready to see my friend," Igrayne announced, throwing on some robes to add more modesty to the simple undertunic and slacks she was wearing. For training, they allowed her much more flexibility, but for seeing a friend she'd lost touch with almost five months to the day ago, they were downright sloppy. She gave herself a quick once-over in the durasteel plating of the door before it swooshed open.

It was only a quick walk to her room, and then she was going through the motions of getting ready—from taking a quick shower in the 'fresher, to carefully applying a small array of cosmetics she carried with her, to selecting a nicely pressed pair of Jedi robes. She wanted to look her best when she saw Carina. It had been quite some time since the two women had last been together—too long, in fact.

If she closed her eyes, she could recall the memory at will. They had been standing together under a tree in the grove near the Jedi Enclave on Dantooine. Night was fast approaching, judging by the sun. It had long ago past its zenith, and was now halfway down its descent to the western horizon. A somber tone had seemed to envelop each of the heroes as the gravity of what had taken place slowly began to sink in. No one seemed more affected by it than Carina. As Igrayne drew nearer to the woman, she could sense something was amiss. The emerald-eyed Jedi seemed to be struggling with something difficult, Igrayne could tell, and not only from her body posture, which was rigid, but also by the set of her mouth.

"You seem troubled," Igrayne said.

"Does nothing escape your notice?"

"I'm afraid not. I know you too well by now to be fooled by that meditative face you put on. It means you're thinking about something important."

"I'm just thinking about…things. Igrayne, I can't stay here. I've been thinking of taking an extended leave of absence. From this, from everything. I need time to refocus myself."

As they spoke, both their eyes were focused on the sun, which was steadily winking back cool purples, pinks, and blues in its quest across the dusky sky. The movement was so slow, so languid, that in watching it Igrayne almost forgot about the heartache of two days before.

"I understand. With all that has happened, it is probably best that you do take some time for yourself," the ebon-haired Jedi said, though she felt remorse at the prospect of losing her friend for an indefinite period of time.

"You should think about going on sabbatical too," Carina said, turning toward her, gently touching her hair in an affectionate gesture. "We've all been through the ringer on this one. But I'm not sure anyone has suffered as much heartbreak as you."

Igrayne closed her eyes tightly, feeling a lump rise in her throat. She couldn't risk getting teary now, otherwise the proverbial dam might overflow. Thus far, she had carefully guarded her feelings about the situation when around her friends, lest they blame her for her lover's demise.

"I can't," she stammered, feeling free for the first time to release the tears she had been holding at bay for what seemed like forever. "You don't understand; being a Jedi is the only thing that's keeping me sane right now. If I don't have that, I don't have anything."

Little did she know how ironic those words would soon become as she began to pull away from the Jedi first, and then everything else. Igrayne clutched Bao-Dur's lightsaber for comfort as though it were a security blanket. Carina eyed her with pity.

"I'll always be here for you, Igrayne," she said, giving her friend a hug. "You know I will. But right now I just need to do some searching. I lost myself once before, and I can't let that happen again. I need to know who I really am, and the only way I can do that is by leaving."

Igrayne nodded, her tears spilling over.

"Just promise me you'll come back to us in one piece."

"I will," the woman said with just a hint of mischief in her green eyes.

Those memories were still so fresh in Igrayne's mind, though they had happened a full half a year earlier. She was fixing her hair in the large vanity in front of her bed when the beeping of her cybernetic interface's message indicator told her someone was standing at the entrance of her room. Igrayne jumped up from her seat to answer the door and was shocked to find a pair of healthy green eyes staring back at her from the other side. Carina had never looked better; her medium brown hair had been neatly trimmed and styled and she wore a new set of robes and even a little lipstick. Igrayne suspected she had whipped it out just for the joyous occasion of her homecoming.

She ensnared the other woman in another hug that was almost enough to choke the life out of her.

"Careful…Igrayne…got to breathe," the other woman said mid-hug.

"Oh, sorry."

When she finally released her, Igrayne was smiling from ear to ear.

"How did you know I was here?"

"I asked around. Most everyone knows who you are around here."

"Well, after the hearing, I lost pretty much any anonymity I had," Igrayne explained. "And any dignity. I'm telling you, Carina, some of the charges they spoke of at my trial were, well, embarrassing! They kept staring at me like I was some freak for not adhering to the Jedi Code."

"You're not a freak. We all falter at times. But it's up to others to help correct us, not to judge," she said, giving her a meaningful stare. Igrayne nodded solemnly.

"Are you hungry? You must be hungry after your long journey. Let's go to the kitchens and find you something to eat, and then you'll tell me all about where you've been these past few months!"

"Slow down, Igrayne, I only just arrived! Don't kill me with food!"

"I'm sorry, it's just…it's so good to see you. I've been so lonely."

Carina smiled and the two women embraced once more.

"Now let's see if we can't go scare up a sandwich somewhere…"

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Igrayne wandered past a potted plant and into the domed Jedi Council chamber for the second time in months, feeling trepidation about the reason as to why she had been called for this private audience. It must have been important, otherwise they would have opened it up to other Jedi as well. She was thankful they hadn't.

Once inside, she breathed a sigh of relief. Master Vrook and Master Sorath stood facing the two rectangular windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, overlooking the impressive cityscape of the bustling planetwide metropolis. At her entrance, both of the Jedi turned to greet her cordially.

"Masters," she said, inclining her head. "When I got your message, I thought I was in trouble."

"Quite the contrary, my young apprentice," Master Sorath said very gently. "Master Vrook suggested we deliver you your first mission under my tutelage. So, pray, make me look good."

Igrayne was heartened slightly by the prospect. At last, something to take her mind off things! Although the timing could have been better—Carina had only just arrived!

"What would you have me do, Masters? Settle border disputes? Mend relations between warring clans? Give me something I can handle."

Vrook's unimpressed look indicated to her she was way off the mark.

"You will be stationary, for the most part, during this mission. Master Sorath and I thought it best we start you out small and then give you increasing responsibility. Wouldn't you agree?"

Despite her feelings on the matter, she replied with a polite "Yes, sir."

"We would like you to follow Carina, watch where she goes, and report back to us. We can't be certain what her intentions in returning to the Jedi Temple are. We do not know if she is being manipulated by some unseen force, or if she is being made to do the things she's doing. We need to be sure she is being forthright with us in her desire to return to the Jedi."

"I understand," Igrayne said. And she truly did. After watching Carina fall to the dark side, lose her mind, and then reclaim it again only to suddenly turn her back on the Jedi once more, the council had a right to send someone to keep an eye on her. And who better to do it than one of her closest friends? At least, this way, if someone had to watch her, it would be someone she trusted.

"This will give you access to almost any room in the facility," Master Sorath said, handing her a blue keycard. "Use your discretion when following her. If she sees you, make some excuse. I don't care what it is—just distract her from discovering what you are doing."

"Understood, sir."

Master Sorath gave her the dismissal signal, and her slow, loping gait brought her nearer the door.

"And Igrayne?" Vrook said. "Your success in this matter reflects entirely upon your Jedi master, so do not fail him."

"Yes, Master."

The next month was nothing short of a nightmare. Igrayne followed Carina almost everywhere—to every restroom, kitchen, sparring ring, and study hall the Jedi visited in her brief time at the temple. And always Igrayne devised some sort of explanation for why fate should cross their paths yet again. Ever willing to believe her friend, Carina accepted every explanation fed to her without so much as batting an eyelash at it. Instead, she would welcome her to enjoy a meal with her, Rika Skye, and her circle of friends, or offer her help with study materials in the Jedi Archives, or even help her perfect her technique as she sparred with Rika.

And, in a month's time, after Carina had left on a brief mission delivered her by the council, she was ordered to report back to both Jedi masters with her findings. As she had no desire to report on the Jedi woman's bathroom habits or religious study routine, she glossed over the details, leaving out the part about how much Carina slept when she actually should have been doing more important things. After all they had been through, Carina deserved to sleep for at least a year if not more—and she wasn't about to deprive her of that privilege with a few poorly chosen words.

"Tell us, Jedi Igrayne, what you have learned in your time spent observing Carina," Vrook commanded.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Sorry to disappoint, Masters, but she lives a pretty normal—albeit boring—life. From what I've witnessed, she seems to have totally recommitted her life to the Jedi Order. She is so different than what I remember. It is like she has doubled her efforts this time around."

Vrook exchanged a meaningful glance with Sorath that did not go unnoticed by the perceptive young Jedi standing before them.

"Perhaps sabbatical did her well. The time off certainly seems to have agreed with her, from what Igrayne has said."

"When Carina returns from her mission with Master Dorak, see that the council convenes to discuss her fate," Vrook told the other man. Sorath made a note of it on a small datapad on which he had been writing. Igrayne had not noticed the item comfortably lodged in his hands before now. She wondered if he was documenting her words. If he was, he would have to be careful to seal the information. There were still a great many people in the galaxy who were desperate to get information on Carina, a former Sith lord, and blackmail her with it in order to make a handsome profit.

"Yes, Master. She will return soon, and when she does, I will see that she comes before us," Sorath announced.

As luck would have it, Carina returned much sooner than expected, bringing with her an early victory. She and Master Dorak had apparently been expecting their mission to last months, but the fact it had only lasted weeks was a testament to the young Jedi's prowess in completing each quest delivered to her. All of the Jedi masters seemed supremely impressed with her—most of all, Master Vrook.

The afternoon of her return, Carina entered Igrayne's apartment with a handwritten note in a stylized script. As she handed it to Igrayne, a smile spread across her face.

"Read it and weep."

Igrayne raised an eyebrow.

"No, really. You'll weep when you read it. Can you believe the day has come at last?"

"What day, what are you talking about?"

"Look, just read it already, will you?"

Obediently, Igrayne unsealed the envelope and slipped the delicate piece of paper out. Written in a woman's hand, the letter detailed the impending nuptials of Rani Taraster and Carth Onasi. Squealing with delight, Igrayne took in every word of the beautiful majuscule script, her eyes welling with tears. She was genuinely happy that at least one of her friends had found love amid a time of war.

"This is wonderful news. The wedding is so soon! Was this invitation delayed in getting to me?"

"She didn't know where to address it, so I told she could deliver it to me and I'd give it to you in person."

"Wow, this is so amazing. Can you imagine? Pretty soon Rani will be Mrs. Rani Onasi. That's pretty hard to believe. It seems like just yesterday they met."

"I know. And now they're getting married and joining the ranks of old farts who do nothing but sit home and watch holovision every night."

Igrayne nudged the other woman playfully. "Oh, stop."

"So you have a dress for the wedding?"

"No, and I don't even know how I can get permission to leave. At times I feel it's almost as if I am under house arrest. Master Sorath keeps a vigilant eye upon me. He would not like the idea of me leaving, even if it is only for a friend's wedding."

"I'm sure we can convince him somehow."

"We? So this means you're returning to the Jedi?"

"What do you think? Going on missions with Master Dorak, spending late nights studying in the Jedi Archive. I think that should spell it out pretty clearly for you," Carina replied.

"I figured you were, but I didn't want to say anything in case it scared you away.

"No. All I needed was time to refocus myself. I have a new sense of purpose now. And I am at last ready for the Jedi again."

"That is good to hear," Igrayne said honestly.

Taking the opportunity to change the subject, Carina said, "So if you're going to the wedding, you're gonna need a date."

"I couldn't possibly! It is unseemly for a Jedi to show up with a suitor."

"You know, I hear Dustil's still available…"

"Forget it," Igrayne said snippily. "We parted on less than amicable terms."

"But he's already expecting you to show."

"What?"

"I told him you were in the market for a date."

"You didn't!" Igrayne grabbed one of the pillows from off her bed and pelted Carina with it.

"Oh, I did. And he seemed all too happy to volunteer."

"And what about you and Mikey?"

The coy smile on Carina's face spoke volumes about that situation and yet told her nothing at the same time. Igrayne raised an eyebrow as Carina covered her mouth with her hand, stifling laughter.

"That's for me to know."

"And me to find out?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Come on, stop playing coy with me. Tell me, have you guys made up yet?"

"I guess you'll just have to find out…when you come to the wedding."

"Oh-ho! Blackmail!" Igrayne said, pelting her again with the pillow.

"Just say you'll come. Everyone's expecting you to be there."

"All right, I'll come, but only if my Jedi master allows it."

"He will," Carina said, her enigmatic smile never once fading from her face.

Deep down, Igrayne knew she spoke truly.


End file.
